This week's FWG prompt is:
Lost In Time
Bobbie stepped through the wall into the street. Reaching back to steady herself, she felt the rough bricks as the wall become solid again. She thought she was getting used to the feeling of being stretched in directions for which there were no names, but this transition was worse than the others. Taking a moment to center herself again, she slowly opened her eyes and cautiously she looked around. The street was deserted, as expected. Somehow, whatever was jerking her around in time always dropped her on a desolate beach or an empty street.
She needed new clothes. Her jeans and tee-shirt would definitely be out of place in what looked to be the Middle Ages. Of course, she may have just stepped into a tourist town dressed up to look medieval. Either way, it was time to find a place to hide until the next transition. Or, maybe not. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and the all-too-familiar tingling started in her fingers and toes. She knew resisting would just prolong the unpleasantness, so she gave in to the numbing cold that inched its way up her arms and legs.
The cold was soon joined by searing pain following in its wake. How could frigid cold feel burning hot? Her breath came in gasps as tight bands of red hot ice wrapped themselves around her chest. The pain brought relief, though, because Bobbie knew it would happen quickly now. Closing her eyes as she did before every jump since the first one—the one which took her completely by surprise and taught her not to look—she felt the fingers of time reach into her heart and her brain and yank her to somewhere and somewhen else.